


Silent Running

by everytimeyougo



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everytimeyougo/pseuds/everytimeyougo
Summary: She has to keep going. There is no other option.





	Silent Running

_Her pounding footsteps echo through the darkened forest._

***

He anticipates, early on, that he may have trouble maintaining his grip on reality, spending each and every day alone. It doesn’t sound so bad, truth be told, the idea of living out the rest of his days within a fantasy of his own making. But he has a job to do. He owes his love a cabin, and a cabin she will have, even if he expends his final breath pounding in its final nail.

***

_Chest burning with exertion, she gasps for air, bending double, arms wrapped around her middle as her heart pounds in her ears._

***

So far, however, his sanity has held fast and he deals with the loneliness, the monotony, the physical discomfort brought on by lack of creature comforts and age by keeping busy, both mentally and physically. He designs himself a set of measuring tools made from tree branches and uses them to create complex and unnecessary building plans scratched into the earth. He then follows them to a tee, putting into large scale practice skills honed by decades of miniature ship building.

***

_She has to keep going. There is no other option._

***

The cabin is more of a shack, if he’s being honest, but it’s coming together at a reasonable pace and it’s sturdy enough he should be able to live in it throughout the remainder of his days. He doesn’t expect that to be an especially long period of time. He adds a few decorative features, things he thinks she might like. A window facing the river, with an attached box for flowers. A bookshelf by the bed. He imagines her reaction to seeing them, and he wishes again for just enough madness to believe in his own lies.

***

_Straightening up, she resumes her frantic race into the night._

***

After working from dawn to dusk, he sleeps like the dead. When he dreams, he remembers only in enigmas- smudges of colour, half-heard sounds, vague feelings of unease. Sometimes he wishes for clarity; other times, he suspects it’s better this way.

***

_They’re coming._

***

He awakens with a start, heart pounding, gasping for breath as if he’s been running for his life. Moonlight dimly illuminates the one room cabin, outlining his remaining meagre possessions. A few books, some tools. A silver bracelet hanging from a pair of nails on the wall above his bed. Nothing seems amiss. The old man lays back down.

***

_They’re too close; she can’t outrun them. They’re strong, fast, inhumanly so. She...is not. She veers off the path._

***

For the first time in recent memory, he finds himself unable to sleep. The night presses in on him, making the small cabin feel even smaller, almost like a coffin. The air grows heavy, oppressive.

Something is _wrong_.

***

_Those hunting her continue on, not noticing the small shaking figure hidden beneath the underbrush. It’s only long after their footsteps fade that she dares return to the beaten path. Where they went right, she goes left._

_Headlong, she runs away from her pursuers and towards the unknown. Safety, she hopes, but just as likely she’s running towards more danger. She has to take the chance. She has no other options._

_Up ahead, a light crosses the trail and she stops dead in her tracks, then turns to run back the way from whence she came. Another light appears, closer even than the first. She halts again, head whipping from side the side, paralysed by indecision,_

_The lights bob forward, and then...and then voices rings out, one answering the other, shattering the silence of the forest. They are voices she knows. Her heart in her throat, she dashes toward the closest light._

***

“Madam President!? Holy _frak_ ! _Lee_!” Lieutenant Kara Thrace catches the woman who nearly falls at her feet, panting, drenched with sweat and covered in bloody scratches. “Madam President, are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?”

Laura gulps air, gripping the younger woman’s forearms as if they were the only thing keeping her upright, which isn’t far from the truth. “Captive,” she gasps. “Cavil. A Five. An Eight. Maybe others. They still have Bill.”

“ _Lee!_ ” Kara yells again, taking off her jacket and wrapping it around the other woman.

He’s already there, coming up behind them, just as Laura asks frantically, “How long? How long have we been gone?”

“Eight days, ma’am,” Lee tells her sharply. “Where’s the Admiral? Where’s my father?”

She moans in response, her knees finally giving way completely. Lee catches her just before she hits the forest floor and eases her down.

She sits, folded over on herself, shaking her head, tears leaking from her eyes and mixing with the dirt on her face. “Eight days? Gods. For us it’s been years. Years. So much time, oh gods, none of it real. They made us think my cancer was back. What lies must they be feeding Bill now that I’m not there?”

“How did you escape?” Kara asks gently, sitting down beside the President and carefully putting an arm around her.

Laura draws in a ragged breath. “The Eight, she...she woke me up. I was in a tub of some kind. Bill was in another one next to me. There were...things, tubes,  attached to him. Oh _gods_ . She wouldn’t let me help him; she made me leave. I couldn’t fight alone; we have to go back. _We have to go back!_ ”

***

_A restless night gives way to an unsettled morning. The old man performs his daily tasks by rote, his mind elsewhere. Where he had once been relatively at peace with his surroundings, he is now jittery, anxious, anticipating he knows not what._

_Physically he feels weak. His head aches, and he’s experiencing difficulty breathing. At times he feels almost disconnected from his body, like he’s simultaneously both awake and asleep._

_A nap, he decides, to make up for the poor night’s rest._

_Entering the cabin, he lays down upon the bed he built as if it were to be for two, and closes his eyes._

_His heart slows, stutters, and finally stops._

***

“Bill. Bill, can you hear me? Wake up!”

He opens his eyes. Laura is leaning over him, her hand cupping his face. Tears shine in her eyes. “It’s over Bill,” she tells him, thumb sliding along his cheekbone. “We’re going home.”


End file.
